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Penn nodded.
‘Coulda warned me, dude. I’m about to have my tea.’
‘Sorry. Do you know him?’
‘Course I know him. That’s Dan. Shit, Dan’s dead?’
‘’Fraid so,’ Penn answered, nodding across the road. ‘Found yesterday morning in the underpass. Aneurism.’
‘Shit. Sorry to hear that.’
‘Do you know Dan’s last name?’ Penn asked, unable to believe he’d struck gold on his first try.
‘Nope. Don’t know his first name either. Dan’s his street name, after Dan Ackroyd.’
Penn was confused.
‘Just cos ofTrading Places, the film – you know it, right?’
‘Yeah, but I don’t get it.’
Jericho rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s just say that being on the streets was a new experience for him. He fell a long way. Ain’t got a clue on his real name.’
Penn should have known he wouldn’t be that lucky.
‘How long had he been out here?’ he asked.
‘Sorry, mate, ain’t got my diary on me. It’s back at the office with my Rolex and Lamborghini.’
‘Roughly?’ Penn asked, ignoring the sarcasm.
‘Maybe two years or so. Could have been longer. I was in Rhyl. Kizzy here likes to travel.’
Although the guy had managed to make him feel like an idiot a few times, there was something likeable about him.
‘Talk to him much?’
‘Now and again. We were next to each other in the queue sometimes.’
‘And?’
‘We sipped lattes and discussed our secrets.’
‘Secrets?’ Penn asked.
‘Oh yeah, we all got ’em. But I was being sarcastic. Again.’
‘Yeah, I caught that. Was he an alcoholic?’
Jericho shook his head.
‘An addict?’ he asked. He knew of many men and women who had lost everything through substance abuse.
‘Not like you’re thinking.’
‘Go on,’ Penn urged.
‘Bloody hell, mate, for this much probing you could have bought me dinner.’
